How Connor and Murphy MacManus come to America
by graceandfire
Summary: A short showing how Connor and Murphy MacManus arrive in America to find their destinies. Rated only for some language.


How Connor and Murphy come to America

Connor and Murphy MacManus make their way to the great big fucking land of opportunity not on a great sea-going vessel as their Irish forbearers might have a century past. They aren't welcomed at Ellis Island or by the Statue of Liberty's serene presence beckoning forward the huddled masses. No, Connor and Murphy arrive in America at Boston Logan International Airport on an airplane; modern, sleek and magical enough considering it's the first plane ride for them. Both of them, of course, because where one goes, so does the other, as it's always been and always will be. What one experiences, the other is right beside him to do the same; whether it's losing their virginity to the Bailey sisters on the same night when they were fifteen or getting the shite kicked out of them by the five Bailey brothers the very next day. Be it joy, anger, pleasure or pain, Connor and Murphy have always experienced the ride of life together because without the other there it wouldn't be quite real.

So the long crossing over the Atlantic ocean is the first time on a plane for them both and the thrill of excitement has them riding high, juicing their normal good spirits so far up that they can barely sit still in the too small seats. And under the excitement lies the wisp of unacknowledged fear at trusting their lives to an iron winged beast. It has them both joking loudly to cover it, both casting flirting smiles at the stewardesses, oh aye, sorry love, _flight attendants_, who find themselves amused and unexpectedly charmed by two bonny lads from the old country.

Connor has the window seat but they switch off every so often so both can have their share of looking down upon the endless turquoise expanse below. Several times they huddle side by side, squashed up against each other, faces pressed cheek to cheek so they can gaze wide-eyed with unashamed wonder out the tiny oval window together at the earth so very far below.

The MacManus brothers are twenty-two years old; smoking, brawling, hard-drinking, foul-mouthed, baby-faced men, with untouchable faith in their God and in each other. It's the two of them off to seek adventure and destiny in America. The two of them together, as it always was and always will be.

"We've finally done it Con," Murphy smiles at one point, sweet around the edges, as he almost always is. The easy smiles hide the fire that burns bright and vivid in his heart.

"Aye," Connor flashes a brilliant smile back at him, charisma flowing naturally in easy, constant waves, more than enough to spill over to his brother. The fire is more evident in Connor than it is in Murphy, flashing on the surface like quicksilver, always drawing the eyes while Murphy's hides until he needs it.

"D'you think Ma will be all right without us?" Murphy asks, brows furrowing for a moment, as he feels a pang for all they're leaving behind. Sure, and it's a hard scrabble life they're leaving, but it has good memories as well, good people. And Ma. They've had this discussion several times already but he worries still, knowing Ma, for all her alcoholic, off-kilter, hard-talking ways loves them both with a fierceness they return in full measure.

Connor merely shakes his head ruefully, acknowledging the same pull even as he lets it go. "Ma would be all right if the whole of Ireland sank beneath the waves and she was left alone, just her paddling along on a tire."

Murphy shrugs back, grinning at the image. "Well, you have that right enough. As long as she has some whiskey to keep her company," he adds wryly.

Connor snorts his agreement. He worries too in truth, but the rest of the family will look out for her as much as the woman needs looking after, which is not much looking after at all. For the briefest instant he feels a sharp pain pierce his heart at the memory of all those they're leaving behind. He accepts it, letting it wash over and through him as denial has never been his way. And then he lets it go, lets the aeroplane carry him past any fear or regrets. Connor has Murph with him. As long as he has Murph he will never be alone.

They touch down after a bone-wearying flight into Boston Logan International Airport and emerge a little unsteady from the long flight, gratefully stretching their long legs, working the kinks out with grimaces and yawns. They eye the airport bar and give consideration to grabbing a quick pint before they make their way into the city but the prices have their eyebrows climbing and outraged 'fuck and isn't that a rip-off' being muttered to each other in disgust. They decide that, since they've a sum total of three hundred and sixty-two American dollars and forty seven American cents between them, they won't be spending seven dollars of it on a pint after all and they make their way to the luggage carousels, throats still dry. Connor's duffel bag is one of the first off and Murphy's doesn't make an appearance for half and hour after that which makes no sense because fuck it they'd put their bags in together hadn't they? But Connor's still too much in the mode of grand adventure to be that pissed off and Murphy just rolls his eyes and shrugs and when the beaten up green canvas finally makes its bedraggled appearance he gives an easy grin, slaps his brother on the back of the head to get his attention away from the girl he's admiring and they quickly make their way out of the airport and down to the train station.

After puzzling out the map system and charming the token booth attendant with their accents and angelic grins, the two find themselves being carried into the heart of old Irish Boston. Right away they feel a little bit at home. The buildings have an old feel to them, the people have an air of hard edges and poverty, and there's just something familiar in the air. They've a few names to call, contacts they have for those from their village who know someone who's come before. But first thing's first.

"We need to find a pub," Connor states emphatically.

"Amen to that," Murphy agrees seriously.

They walk with their bags slung over their shoulders into the heart of the Irish neighborhood, pass one or two bars by and finally stop at a bar called McGinty's. The minute they step inside they feel at home. It's dark and smells of beer and smoke and sweat and it's a hard-scrabble lot who are scattered throughout. Connor and Murphy step up to the bar and order two pints from the old man who's tending. The old timer is rude and gruff and swears like a sailor and the boys both smile at the hint of Ireland in the man's rough voice. When the drinks come they raise their glasses together and toast. For they have come to America. And they will find their destinies here.

The two of them together as it always was and always will be.

A/N - This is just a short that popped into my head after watching the movie. I hope I got the characters and voices right since this is my first Boondock Saints fic and I'm from Hawaii which is very 'not' Ireland or Boston.

Oh and also, yeah, so, this is how I came to know the Boondock Saints:

Having a conversation with a friend:

Me - So 'Friend', have you ever heard about this movie called the Boondock Saints? I came across some fanfic for it on the internet and it seems pretty interesting. I've added it to my Netflix Queue.

Friend - Dude, hello! I lent that movie to you over a year ago!

Me - Dude, no you didn't.

Friend - Dude, yes. Yes, I did.

Me - Oh.

Me again - Cool!

Friend - (rolls eyes)

--Later that night--

Me - That was awesome! I've just watched it twice and I just went on Amazon and ordered my own copy

Friend - (smugs) I knew you'd like it.

Me - And I now have a totally silly schoolgirl crush on two fictional Irish twin vigilantes.

Friend (who is a guy) - Uh, I'm glad you liked it but I didn't really need to know that last part.

End


End file.
